


Layers

by whenyoudesertme (phrenk)



Category: Japanese Drama, Kagi no Kakatta Heya | The Locked Room Murders
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 14:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/419928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phrenk/pseuds/whenyoudesertme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aoto thinks their night of celebration after a job well done could be even more fun with a few changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Layers

**Author's Note:**

> No spoilers. Set in Aoto's apartment, of which I kept the feeling I got from watching episode four, but I took some liberties with the layout. This is my first fic that isn't RPF; I am grateful for the encouragement of Top, Elfie, and Kinoface, the last of whom used her beta eyes for me. ♥ Cross-posted [here](http://whenyoudesertme.livejournal.com/28392.html).

Aoto stared at her thermostat and considered.

After a few rounds of drinks, all bought by Serizawa and in only one of which Enomoto had consented to participate, she was flushed and happy, but perhaps if she turned the heat up a few degrees things would get even better.

Serizawa had urged them all into a victory toast at his favorite watering hole, an imposing place with expensive liquor that Aoto would never enter of her own accord, unless to find her boss and drag him away from some classy middle-aged lady he was admiring and off to persist in their latest locked room investigation. They had solved another, though Serizawa had grumbled that he wasn't getting paid and wasn't enjoying it either. The former was sadly true, but he fooled no one with claims of the latter.

Now Enomoto was in Aoto's living room on her fluffy white rug, fiddling with the padlock she'd given him to tease open, the bait she'd dangled with the promise of a drink. She'd filled the keyhole with superglue the day before.

When his blank face had frozen even further, his fingers stilling on his tools, she'd clapped and laughed, and he'd turned slowly to look at her in that way he had of moving his gaze toward her and only locking it on at the last second. She'd left him to it, fixing him a drink though she knew it was no part of why he was here. Even now it was making a puddle of condensation on her kitchen table, but it had gotten her out of the living room for a while.

Standing in the kitchen and looking at Enomoto's shoulders filling out his sweater, Aoto shrugged with an unrepentant grin and turned the heat up several degrees. His collar was still crisp and neat despite the long day, and Aoto was ready to see another side of him, even if she had to coax it out.

He'd hesitated, eyes actually meeting hers, when she'd asked if he wanted to share a cab after Serizawa had stumbled into one with a wave and a holler of "Team Enomoto!" She'd been ready for him to say no, and ready with her arguments to change his mind as well, but finally he'd said, "I understand."

Aoto had charged on ahead, arm linking through Enomoto's, because being friends with him meant being willing to gloss comfortably over things other people might find discouraging.

She'd been so busy with their latest case that she hadn't cleaned at all, and there Enomoto sat at her living room table, transfixed by the padlock and the various items he'd produced from his bag, surrounded by her travel books and laundry and unused exercise equipment as if nothing existed except him, his tools, and the lock.

After a few minutes, Aoto said loudly, "Enomoto-san."

His chin lifted steadily as he pulled his eyes from his task, gaze coming to rest somewhere around her socks.

"Your drink," she said cheerfully, handing it over, and clenched a victorious fist when he automatically put down his tools and took the offered glass. Even Enomoto had been raised by somebody.

Before he could place the drink on the table and get back to work, Aoto remarked, "Ah, it's hot. I think I'm even hotter just looking at you, would you take that sweater off, Enomoto-san?" When it looked like he was going to brush this idea off, she rushed on, "And are you almost done with that lock? How does one pick a lock that's glued shut... Enomoto-san?"

He hesitated. Then he put the drink down and gracefully shrugged off his sweater, avoiding his glasses with the ease of long practice. He put the sweater aside neatly, though he stopped short of folding it, and his hands slipped automatically down his chest to smooth out any wrinkles in his striped button-down shirt.

As she'd anticipated, he launched into an explanation, all earnest monotone and technical knowledge, and she did her best to follow along convincingly with her expressions while inside she plotted her next move. Usually she didn't plot, usually she went with momentum and conviction and enthusiasm rather than planning, but she'd been thinking about this enough that she'd started plotting without even realizing it. She usually met with success in her endeavors, and this was not going to be an exception, she felt, though Enomoto gave her so little to go on.

"You don't understand? I can go through it again."

Aoto said hastily, "No, I understand. Please continue." When he opened his mouth, she laughed and gestured. "With the lock!"

His mouth shut, then he turned back to his work. Aoto waited, sipping at Enomoto's drink and idly flipping through a book filled with glossy pictures of Jamaica.

At last she heard the telltale click.

Her breath caught, her eyes flew to Enomoto's face, and she bit her lip against the question she'd been waiting to ask, because she was going to wait just a tiny bit longer.

Enomoto gave that satisfied expression that was just barely a smile, basking briefly but intensely in his success.

A second after that, just as his satisfied freedom had his eyes resting on his drink, Aoto blurted, "Would you like to take a shower?"

Enomoto's hand, which was on the way to the drink Aoto had mostly finished anyway, ceased moving. The tiny smirk disappeared from his face, and suddenly she could see him breathing, and she'd never much thought about Enomoto, as controlled as he was, needing to breathe like the rest of them.

He said haltingly, "Take a shower?"

Aoto nodded, a firm dip of her chin, and watched him attentively. "Yes."

She held herself back from edging closer and wheedling. Sometimes bowling people over into action was the answer; this time it was not.

His hand retreated slowly, his face as still as ever. "After tonight, how will it be?"

Aoto thought about it, bringing her hands to her face, then moved them out to gesticulate. "Probably I'll call you every day and tell you all about what's going on, and bring you food sometimes, and drop by your workspace frequently. And we'll break open locked rooms together, and maybe go places and do things that are related to our interests, however they overlap."

Her hands moved with these future versions of themselves as they went from place to place, sometimes separating before meeting again in mid-air.

Enomoto's lips pursed. "You're saying nothing will change."

Aoto laughed, reassured by his shift in expression. "Yes!"

His hands moved purposefully to his collar and loosened his tie, then began to unbutton his shirt in a steady, certain movement.

She leaned in to try to read his expression, finding she was surprised by his agreement after all, then said excitedly, "So you're taking off your clothes? And you're going to spend the night? With me? And Enomoto-san, we're going to have sex?"

His fingers didn't pause, though he waited a moment before saying diffidently, "Yes."

Aoto didn't worry about his noncommittal tone, because he was pulling off his tie and then removing his shirt, so clearly he was prepared to move forward. She clapped her hands, grinning, and he looked at her as he bent over to remove his socks. His eyes skimmed up her body to her face.

"Am I the only one undressing?"

Aoto blinked, dragging her eyes back up to his face. He was skinny and pale, but remarkably, invitingly muscled. "Oh, you want to shower at the same time? That--that's all right, I'll just, oh." She hadn't yet built up her bravery to be ready to take off her clothes in front of Enomoto, but it wasn't such a hard thing to do.

She lost her jacket easily, then her shirt more slowly, because Enomoto had paused, hands hovering around his belt, to watch her. He seemed to be struggling with something, and she tilted her head curiously as she opened the last button without looking down.

"Enomoto-san?"

"Ah, camisole," he said softly. She stared at him, and after a few seconds he cleared his throat, sounding almost embarrassed. "Past partners have advised me that I should ... say things, at times like these. They said otherwise I was creepy."

Aoto made a deliberating sound as she took off her socks. Her first impulse was to agree with Enomoto's past lovers, but she stifled it. "Well, it'd be nice to hear some of what's in your head, but as long as you're, um, happy with what's going on, you don't have to force it."

His eyes met hers, and though she couldn't read his expression, several moments of eye contact with him felt almost like a kiss.

She could feel herself blushing. "Towels are in the hallway."

"Ah." He turned and walked with precise steps, taking off his glasses and placing them carefully on top of her shelf of travel books before he went on through the kitchen. Aoto followed, sliding her unbuttoned shirt off her shoulders. She ran back to snag Enomoto's drink, finished it, then caught up with him outside the bathroom.

He was standing there, the hall closet door open before him, and looking with great concentration at her towels. Aoto rolled her eyes, grabbed two towels, and towed him into the bathroom.

She closed the door behind her and put the towels neatly into one corner, then turned to find him standing in the center of the room, projecting calm despite being naked from the waist up. He managed to look just as reserved without his glasses, though his bare toes curled against the cool ceramic.

Standing there staring at his chest, Aoto had a terrible idea. She closed her eyes to fight it, then snapped them open again helplessly.

She knew she shouldn't, but she was so tempted. She bent at the waist, one hand sliding forward with pointer finger pointing, then gave in and pressed Enomoto's nipple like an elevator button. It was all she could do not to make a gag about _going down_.

Enomoto shifted around uneasily, but didn't say anything. Aoto straightened sheepishly. After a moment, he took her hand and rearranged her fingers. He brought them back up to his nipple and said, "Like this," and used them to pinch lightly.

She flushed, saying, "I wasn't--I wasn't trying to..." but her fingers pinched again instinctively, then again when Enomoto's face went curiously slack. She pinched one more time, then switched to the other nipple, and Enomoto said, "Take off your camisole."

Aoto didn't look up, fascinated by the rosy glow she was drawing out with her fingers. "Take off your pants," she countered.

"Hm." Enomoto moved closer, and her hands fell to her sides. Then he was closer still, and then he leaned down, and his hands rested on her hips just as he began kissing a trail down from her ear. It felt like each press of lips was measured, the intervals between always the same size, and Aoto chuckled, the noise turning breathless when Enomoto reached her shoulder and nipped none too gently.

Then he stood back a bit, though his hands lingered on her hips. He repeated, with the exact lack of inflection as before, "Take off your camisole."

Aoto's eyes narrowed. She was fully prepared to leave hickeys up and down Enomoto's neck until he capitulated and stripped first.

She started forward menacingly, but Enomoto's hands tightened on her hips, holding her teeth away from his vulnerable neck.

When she looked up, he looked the tiniest bit flustered by her proximity, but he said calmly enough, "They're not mutually exclusive activities."

Aoto thought this over as he took a step back. Looking at him suspiciously, she said, "Ready, set..."

"Go."

His hands worked skillfully at his belt, and Aoto grasped the hem of her camisole and lifted slowly, eyes intent on the button being opened, the zipper being dropped, and--

He stopped. Aoto groaned, then realized she hadn't moved her hands since the first peek of Enomoto's hipbones. Before he could say anything, she whipped her camisole off and tossed it aside, not willing to miss a second of the show.

Enomoto still didn't move. She looked up, ready to badger him on, but smirked to find him looking decidedly glazed. Her breasts were small, but her vigorous motion had been enough that they'd bounced, and even now he was just ... _actively appreciating_ them with his eyes.

She gave him a moment, then snapped her fingers demandingly. His expression smoothed, though his gaze stayed locked on, and his hands pushed his trousers off his hips to let them fall to the floor. He stepped out of them absently, arms coming back to his sides, and looked much like he had when she came into the room, though his eyes had certainly lost their unfocused haze.

Aoto tsked. "Those as well."

She pointed at his dark gray underwear, taking a shameless ogle at the clear outline of his cock while she was at it. He looked down quickly, shuffling a step to the side. It was just possible that he had gained some color in his cheeks at her demand.

Grasping the fastening of her pants, Aoto waited pointedly, and slowly Enomoto's hands came to the elastic of his briefs. She undid her button. Enomoto slid his thumbs down to hook in his underwear. She unzipped, and he dragged the elastic down a few inches, baring a few dark hairs.

Aoto shoved her pants to the floor with a flourish, and quickly, as if not to think about it, Enomoto did the same with his briefs. He stepped out of them gingerly while she stood with her trousers around her ankles, thoroughly enjoying the view. Enomoto had unexpectedly strong legs. Among other things. She nearly let out an unhinged giggle, but when Enomoto pointed at her underwear in turn, she settled.

"Ahh," she mused sadly. "You have nothing to trade. I guess these stay on."

He stepped forward slowly, then stopped and cleared his throat. "May I take them off of you?"

A sudden ache between her legs let her know how much her libido liked that idea. She decided his hyperactive, all-considering brain could use something to ponder, so she reached out and grasped his wrists. She brought his hands to her breasts just as she answered sweetly, "You may."

Enomoto's brow furrowed, his fingers giving an experimental flutter. His hands were very warm, and his face was very close, and she wondered if he'd take off her panties or leave his hands on her tits, and she felt quite smug that there was no option where she came out poorly.

Suddenly Enomoto stepped back with a controlled jerk, then turned on his heel and stood with his back to her.

"Enomoto-san, what--?"

"We should shower," his voice came back, his tone clipped.

Aoto crossed her arms over her chest, hunching slightly. Enomoto's shoulders looked tight and tense, and then he said, "Now would be--now would be an excellent time to shower, and then we can go to bed."

Straightening slowly, Aoto processed his tone and words. Perhaps his constant control was finally slipping, she thought, her face recovering into a smile.

To test this theory, she said, "Perhaps you could help me wash, Enomoto-san?"

"No," he said harshly, but Aoto's grin only grew. He wanted her. He wanted her a lot.

"Fine," she said, making it sulky. "Then you go first." Free of the worry that he was changing his mind, her eyes dropped lower, and then her jaw dropped, too. Enomoto's ass was like something she might see in a museum, sculpted lovingly and admired through the ages.

"Enomoto-san," she breathed, and he turned slightly, the shower head in his hand sending water flowing down in trickles over his pale skin.

If she walked a few steps forward, they wouldn't make it to her bed. Aoto's impulse control was not one of her strengths, but she managed to stutter out, "I'll wait in the hallway."

She escaped, nearly tripping over her pants before kicking them away. She wished she'd grabbed her towel, then recalled the vision of Enomoto naked and wet and forgot everything but the need just to stay in the hall, stay in the hall and wait so they'd make it to her bed and then she could touch him all over.

It was only a few minutes until the door opened, but it felt like a long time. Enomoto had a towel around his waist, and he looked slightly taken aback to find her still most of the way naked.

"Your turn," he said, voice hitching. He swallowed and stared vaguely into the distance.

Aoto trained her eyes over his shoulder and pointed down the hall. "Wait on my bed, okay?"

She stepped hurriedly around him and got ready to take the quickest shower of her life.

She walked carefully over the wet tile, overly aware that it was wet from Enomoto showering, Enomoto soaping his naked body, probably while he thought about her... then Aoto laughed, imagining Enomoto jerking off to high tech security, possibly pictures of fancy safes.

Perching on the shower stool, she turned the water on and reached for the soap. She lathered up in a daze, thinking about Enomoto in various stages of undress. The one where he'd only loosened his tie had been strangely fetching, and she made a mental note to try to get him to do that in his lair of locks sometime.

She rinsed off her arms and torso and started soaping up her legs. It'd been a while since she had penetrative sex, and it always hurt a bit at first. She considered touching herself, to make sure she'd be ready, but then figured that if she could trust Enomoto in anything it was to be thorough.

Holding her dry hair up and off her neck, Aoto turned and rinsed herself off one last time. She imagined Enomoto scuttling back into his clothes like an embarrassed turtle, and turned off the water with a snap, then settled the shower head back onto the wall. 

She dried herself quickly, scrubbing the terrycloth over her skin. She'd ended up with her beach towel, but it wrapped around her just as well as any other, and she left the bathroom and headed for Enomoto.

When she reached her little nook off the living space, he had dimmed the lights by turning off one of the lamps, and she blinked, wondering if that was on his own account or because of something he'd been advised in the past.

At least he was still naked. He was sitting on the edge of her bed, hands resting on either side of his thighs. When she came into the room, his fists clenched on her bedspread tensely, but he left himself exposed, so Aoto dropped her towel. His face went satisfyingly intent, and she barely thought to kick the towel toward her pile of laundry before she reached the bed and climbed into his lap.

Enomoto's hands came up to clutch her hips, and Aoto kissed him on the mouth. She slid her hands into his damp hair, holding him in place as their lips moved against each other, their breath mingling in a warm wash of alcohol and the scent of soap.

A slick touch against her mouth had Aoto parting her lips, and Enomoto slid his tongue in to taste her. She tugged at his hair encouragingly, feeling his hands slide hotly up her back to press firmly into the muscles of her shoulders. She melted against him, head falling back, and he brought his mouth down to her neck instead. He nosed up to her ear and licked it delicately, then kissed his way down and around to her other ear to repeat the action. It felt like he was carefully mapping her, and Aoto wondered breathlessly if he'd be able to answer immediately if she asked how many kisses it would take to touch every inch of her neck.

She pulled him up to kiss him again, shuddering when he dragged his nails lightly down her back, then thought of the permission she'd given him, how he wouldn't feel pressured to talk.

"Enomoto-san." His hands had come to rest very low on her back, his fingers edging toward seriously intimate places. He hummed against her skin, having made his way down to kiss along her collarbone from one shoulder to the other.

She repeated his name more insistently, despite the fog of pleasure, and he pulled back, looking suddenly wary.

Aoto tried for lucid cheer. "What do you want, Enomoto-san?"

He just stared at her expressionlessly. She huffed.

"For example, I want you, sometime tonight, to lay me down and fuck me so hard I have to brace myself against the wall to stop from sliding up the bed."

Enomoto's eyes squeezed shut abruptly as his hips rolled up.

Aoto felt lightheaded, but she managed to say fervently, "Yeah." Then, "What--I don't know, maybe you never thought about it with me specifically before, but what do you like?"

He looked at her with that awkward expression of reaching out she'd seen him have before when it came to making personal conversation, then the words tumbled tonelessly out: "I've thought about you."

Aoto felt a thrill, but suppressed further questions in hopes that he'd offer more on his own. She wasn't so patient that she could hold still, however, so she started a slow, rocking motion, rubbing herself slickly down against him.

Enomoto closed his eyes again, then rasped out quickly, "I imagined, well, one time I imagined you... I was lying down and you were above me, around me, Aoto, and your knees were--" he broke off, and Aoto stilled questioningly.

"Would you rather show me, Enomoto-san?" She smiled at him when his eyes opened to look at her with concentration.

"Could you stand up?" he said abruptly. She did, taking the chance to admire his lean body and the gleam of his hard dick where she'd gotten him wet, then watched, stifling a chuckle, as Enomoto stood as well, movements suddenly reminiscent of how he moved in crime scenes. Aoto seized the opportunity to whisk her bedspread off and drop it on the floor, sneaking a look at him before shoving the pillows over toward the wall as well.

Enomoto looked at her beige sheets, then smoothly lay down, every movement economical, arms at his sides and legs bent so that he left about a third of the mattress unoccupied above his head.

"And me over you?" Aoto prompted, propping one knee on her bed near his waist.

"Yes." He touched her knee, then pointed with his other hand to a spot on the bed above him. She moved up the bed so her knee could rest on the designated spot, then waited, still standing patiently.

"And your other knee here," Enomoto instructed her, and pointed above his head to the other side. Aoto pushed off the floor without thinking, then clapped her hands to her mouth as she realized that as soon as her knee touched down--and then it did, and she was straddling his face, fully exposing herself to his eyes so close below.

He murmured, "Yes," and she quelled the impulse to scramble away, because this was Enomoto's fantasy, what he'd imagined doing with _her_ , and she was surprised but definitely not turned off. As the seconds ticked on, her embarrassment receded and she became aware of her body, which felt like it could catch fire from the heat of the room and his eyes tracking over her. Her feet were tucked close to his shoulders, and his hands had come to rest on her ankles, and Aoto realized she was gradually easing lower, bringing herself down to his face, and Enomoto said, "Yes, if you could," and she forgot her worries completely and settled herself lightly over his mouth.

His tongue flicked out immediately, his nose pressing up in just the right spot, and Aoto whimpered, falling forward to rest her hands against the bed.

In the tiny distance this left between them, Enomoto asked politely, if belatedly, "May I?"

Aoto automatically urged, " _Yes_ ," then thought of his obsessive solving of puzzles, and added nonchalantly, "Or at least, you can try."

She looked down beneath her body to see him leaning his head back to meet her eyes, his chin nudging up to brush between her legs. A wordless challenge lit between them, then Enomoto slid his hands up to her thighs and tugged her back down to his mouth. He licked steadily, working on touching every part of her with his tongue. His thorough exploration was much more than pleasant, but Aoto had been thinking about him touching her for hours.

"Use your hands, too."

Enomoto paused. "I don't need them, Aoto-san, I can--"

Aoto stopped his words with the simple expedient of grinding down on his face. "You can prove that to me another time, Enomoto-san."

When she eased up, he sounded a bit affronted, but he replied, "I understand." His hands moved sleekly up and in, and he pressed one against her cunt, his fingers curling where her body gave around him. Just as his tongue touched her clit at last, he slid two fingers deep and surprised her into a moan.

The sound seemed to encourage him; he set up a fast rhythm of finger-fucking as he fluttered his tongue, first sporadically and tension-building and then steadily, with no other aim than to get her off. He kept this up for dizzying minutes, seeming determined not to flag in his efforts, and every time she made a noise he only went faster as he worked her up to delirium.

His other hand was firm on the small of her back, keeping her within reach of his mouth, and Aoto arched, overheating, her body trembling and sparking, and Enomoto's fingers were relentless, crooking and pumping--and his tongue--she cried out, convulsing around his fingers, riding the motion as his tongue stroked and stroked.

Aoto dropped to her elbows, panting. Enomoto's fingers were still inside her, but moving meant she lost the _too much_ feeling of his tongue, and she dropped her sweaty forehead against the cool headboard and just breathed for a moment.

Enomoto withdrew his fingers, and Aoto felt the bed move as he carefully edged out from under her. By the time she recovered the will to move, she found him sitting neatly on the edge of the bed again, pink tongue showing as he tidily licked his fingers clean. When she moved to sit beside him he dropped his hand to the bed and looked at her, face flushed and eyes bright.

He showed the slightest smile as he said, "Your turn."

Aoto laughed, body still tingling. "That wasn't my turn? I feel like I could pass out for a week." She shifted happily on the bed, leaning her head from side to side to stretch her neck.

Enomoto wasn't paying attention, having stood to look at the bed again pensively. He started positioning his hands, squinting to imagine something, but Aoto was distracted by the bob of his half-hard cock. She imagined leaning forward and taking it in her mouth, his strong thighs under her hands, and she licked her dry lips and--and then she realized what Enomoto was doing.

He had one hand flat in the air, palm up, and the other was smacking into it, heel to heel, forcing the supine hand forward into the air.

Aoto arranged her expression into innocence and asked, "Have you figured out the correct angle, Enomoto-san?"

His arms dropped to his sides, and he said robotically, "I think we should put a pillow under your hips."

Aoto nodded, eyes laughing, and Enomoto pressed his lips together, clearly trying to decipher her expression.

She covered her smile with one hand, still sparkling at him with her eyes. Then she gestured to the bed and looked up at him encouragingly.

"I'm ready when you are, Enomoto-san!"

His expression was still the most staid version of a pout she'd ever seen, but after a beat he stepped forward, then sat next to her again.

His fingers touched her jaw delicately, turning her face, and Aoto caught her breath as Enomoto leaned in slowly to kiss her. She focused entirely on his mouth for long, sweet seconds, then dropped a hand down to his lap to wrap around his dick.

Enomoto dropped his forehead to rest against hers, biting his lip, then said, "I'll--I'll put the pillow in place."

"You do that," Aoto said distractedly, feeling the slick slide of his cock in her hand. She could feel him getting harder under her touch, and she leaned down slowly to watch from a better angle.

"Aoto-san." Enomoto sounded a little desperate, and Aoto thought it suited him.

"Mmm," she replied. "Condoms in the little box there." She pointed vaguely, still transfixed by the way he twitched and grew in her hand. She reached her other down to his balls, weighing them in her palm, and he suppressed a choke above her.

She was about to bend down to lick when he said urgently, "I have a condom now," and she grinned up at him, giving him one last stroke before pulling away.

Aoto scrambled up the bed, arranging her hips as per his design and finding the pillow quite comfortable, then touched her hands against the headboard above her.

She looked to find Enomoto rolling the condom on, and she took a moment to appreciate the sight of his pretty hands thus occupied. Then he was ready, but he just stood there with a concerned look.

Aoto propped herself up on her elbows. "Enomoto-san?"

He knelt on the bed between her legs, still looking perturbed. He seemed to be searching for just the right words. Finally he said, "Aoto-san..."

She pushed herself up and wrapped her hands behind his neck, pulling him back down with her so he was heavy and hot on top of her even with one arm caught awkwardly between them. She kissed him, feeling him respond slowly, then said, "You don't have to say anything, I promise we're good."

He looked at her for a long moment, then brought his mouth back down over hers. Then he moved back up to his knees, still carefully holding the base of his dick so the condom didn't slip. He looked behind him, as if checking the conditions were right to fulfill Aoto's request, then back at her.

Aoto nodded, raising her arms above her head again, and Enomoto lined up and pushed in gradually. She breathed deeply, wishing he'd get on with it so she could get to the part where she enjoyed it, but then he was in, and her body adjusted, and suddenly the feeling was a pleasurable, constant shock of fullness. She met his eyes, smiled wide, then gasped as he pulled out and drove back in. With every thrust he lowered his hips a degree, and then when he found the one he wanted, brow creased in concentration, he upped the pace, pushing into her over and over with his hands in a death grip in her sheets.

Her hands braced against the headboard as his fierce rhythm continued, moaning out encouragement, sometimes voluntarily and sometimes because she couldn't hold it in. His face was strained and glowing as he focused all his energies into her, hips snapping wildly at the exact angle he'd decided on, and he was breathing in low pants, almost grunts, coming apart in front of her eyes. Aoto reached a hand down to rub frantically, pushing her body to reach that peak, exhaling harshly as she found it and her whole body became taut and riveted by the feeling.

A breath later, Aoto slapped her slick hand back against the polished wood as Enomoto seemed only to go faster. His hands came to her hips so he could arrange her even more to his liking, and she could feel every finger clutching against her flesh, his thumbs pressed into the softness just inside her hipbones and fingers fanned out behind as his rhythm stuttered, eyes closing tight, holding her even tighter, but he kept going, fucking her as his control fell to pieces and he began to vocalize, notes that were only vowels, drawn out and aching with how desperate he was; then those became Aoto's name, just once. He finally slumped onto his elbows above her, hips still jerking and hands sliding up to her breasts.

She felt raw and satisfied, sweaty and gross and wonderful, and she brushed the wet hair from his forehead gently as he gathered himself back together.

Aoto made a thinking noise, then said solemnly, "That was precisely the right angle." Enomoto huffed out something close to a laugh, and she gathered him in as he pulled out carefully, glad he couldn't see her face as she winced.

He sat up and tied the condom off with his clever hands, and Aoto gave a little cheer that had him giving his near smile again. After dropping it into the wastebasket by her desk and stepping carefully around her things to turn off the living room light, he worked his way back in the glow of her orange lamp and lay beside her, giving a full body stretch and breathing out a contented sigh.

Aoto retrieved her pillows and followed suit, her whole body aching in the best way. "Let's do that again in the morning."

Enomoto said right away, "Yes." After a moment he added in a flat tone, "I prefer sleeping without touching."

Aoto smiled at him, because he sounded so unfeeling but she could hear the undercurrent of nervousness that he would offend her, and scooted up to plant a kiss on his cheek. Then she wriggled away, giving him his space, and happily settled down to sleep, ignoring the common sense voice in her head that called for some rinsing off so she wouldn't feel foul upon waking.

In the tone of Enomoto trying to make interesting non-lock-related conversation, a monotone voice rang awkwardly into the room, "What will you do tomorrow?"

Aoto hummed comfortably, checking her internal schedule. "Work and then work and then work, then I'm meeting an old school friend for dinner. If we get a case somehow, I'll see you during the work part, and if not I'll most likely drop by after my dinner." She definitely would, but planning it in advance was new, so she blurred her intentions a smidgen.

At no response, she looked over and could just make out Enomoto in the faint orange glow, his blank face the same as usual but with eyes peacefully closed. Just like him to fall asleep so abruptly, Aoto thought, laughing to herself as she imagined him as a robot powering down.

Then Enomoto made a faint hm of breath, sounding muzzy. Words slurring drowsily, he said, "I've been considering teaching you to pick a lock."

"Oh, yes," Aoto replied at once. "That would be useful, and interesting, too, and maybe I'd understand more of your explanations, Enomoto-san!" When he didn't follow up, and a sleepy silence fell, Aoto reached down to retrieve her comforter and put it down around their feet for when they cooled off in the night. She grinned to herself as she stretched back out, closing her eyes to better wallow in the pleasurable state of the world.

There was a rustle that had her eyes snapping open, but it was just Enomoto, his face coming close in the shadows, and she blinked in confusion before he leaned in and landed an inelegant kiss on her cheek.

He moved away again, saying in his most flustered of calm tones, "Goodnight, Aoto-san."

"Goodnight, Enomoto-san," she replied fondly, stifling her laugh. She felt sated and smug, utterly content if still uncomfortably hot.

"Ah!" she exclaimed, bolting upright on the bed, then delayed her satisfied sleep next to--but not touching--Enomoto so she could scurry out to the kitchen and turn down the temperature on the thermostat.


End file.
